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This frog who lives in my studio is always at peace.
“My mind works in idleness. To do nothing is often my most profitable way.”
Viriginia Woolf
The peace I gathered and brought home from my recent retreat to the beach has worn off. Until this week I was able juggle all that I needed and wanted to do without overwhelm. But this week it hit me that suddenly the feeling of freedom had disappeared and my chronic dis-ease with too much to do with too little time, struck like a bolt of lightning.
Amidst dealing with a crew of painters working on the outside of my house, looking after an ailing dog, the daily stuff of laundry, and cooking, I’ve not been able to have extended moments of time to stare into space, when sweet epiphanies come my way and help me through the difficulties of writing and life.
I need time when there isn’t constant chatter going on just outside my window. I’ve had enough of men banging about with ladders and Molly and Sam responding with non-stop yapping in response. It’s been going on and off for two weeks and because my studio is above the garage, and the only way I can get to it is up a flight of outdoor steps, I’m currently locked out and have had to drag my computer into the house to the guest room, where the elderly card table I’m using as a desk bounces about as I type
There is Bill, my beloved, in the next room, making phone calls and recording a CD of his lines in Act I of the play he will be acting in come December. He’ll replay that darn thing until he’s learned his lines and then he’ll record Act II and begin again. I long to be back in my studio where the peace and quiet I love lives.
We’ve had monsoon-like rains for the last several days and the painting, though mostly done, had once again been postponed until things dry out. If the sun comes out and keeps shining this afternoon and tomorrow, the painters will come and put the final coat of paint on the studio stairs, finish up the doors and do a clean-up. I’m praying that my last day in the guest room will be tomorrow and that by Sunday I’ll be at peace again, tucked away in the room I claim as my own.
Your longing resonates so completely. I wish for you to get your space back as soon as possible. Our quiet, private places are the wonderful retreats right at home, waiting all the time for us to return to spend some time finding our center. Thanks for the insightful sharing and the reminder of the gift these spaces are to us who are so fortunate to have them.
Of all of the studios I’ve been fotunate enough to have time in, this one is the very best. Everyone who visits remarks about the wonderful energy that exists there. I am so grateful for it and wish that everyone could have a personal space like this.
The ailing dog must be at the root of things, other than not having your own room back!
the few things that kept me from coping in the “busy years”, other than the obvious, were sick kids, sick animals, and a sick car.
Pant pant and tightening stomach muscles as I read your blog. Guess I won’t complain to myself about not having enough to do in my older age! It’s just me and the animals. Seems strange but I prefer it that way. New project and passion coming up though for the winter.
Love, Patti
Thanks Patti! Molly had a terrible hacking cough for about a week. After two trips to the vet, we all believe it’s probably a seasonal thing. We’ve had lots of pollen in the air until the rains came and then it cleared up. I’ve been very sniffley and hoarse myself and am better now.
I’m excited to hear about your new passion and project!
I love knowing you have that cool peaceful frog with you in the studio. I hope you’ll be back into your studio in peaceful reverie very soon.
Thank you, Kara! I love my frog. He makes me smile. The weather looks like it will be great tomorrow for the painters to finish up! Yeah!!